At first I was lonely, but then I was

起初我感到孤独，但后来我开始

curious. The original fault was that I could

好奇。最初的症结，是我看不见

not see the lines of things. My mother could.

事物的线条。我母亲能。

She could see shapes and lines and shadows,

她能看见形状、线条与阴影，

but all I could see was memory, what had been

而我所能见的，只有记忆：那物件

done to the object before it was placed on

在被放到茶几或床头柜之前，

the coffee table or the nightstand. I could sense

经历过什么。我能感知到

that it had a life underneath it. Because

它底下藏着生命。正因

of this, I thought I was perhaps bad at seeing. Even

如此，我以为自己或许不擅长观看。甚至

color was not color, but a mood. The lamp was

颜色也不是颜色，而是一种情绪。那盏灯

sullen, a candlestick brooding and rude with its old

郁郁寡欢，烛台沉郁、粗鲁，旧蜡

wax crumbling at its edges, not flame, not a promise

正从边沿碎落，不是火焰，也不是对火焰的

of flame. How was I supposed to feel then? About

许诺。那我该如何去感受？关于

moving in the world? How could I touch anything

在这个世界里走动？我如何能触碰任何东西

or anyone without the weight of all of time shifting

或任何人，而不让整个时间的重量

through us? I was not, or I did not think I was, making

流经我们？我不是，或自认为不是，在

up stories, it was how the world was, or rather it is how

编故事；世界曾是这般，毋宁说，世界

the world is. I've only now become better at pretending

一直就是如此。我只是到现在才更擅长假装

that there are edges, boundaries, that if I touch

 事物有边缘，有界限；假装如果我触碰

something it cannot always touch me back.

某物，它不会总是反过来触碰我。